


Sinking with Feeling

by deerynoise



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Adventure, Black Marsh, Gen, Mystery, The Blades - Freeform, Whet Fang, swamp, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerynoise/pseuds/deerynoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Blades agents found themselves a map supposedly written by the Hero of Daggerfall - claiming to hide something important to them. What could it be? Is going into the heart of Black Marsh a good idea? This little treasure hunt may shape up to be more complicated than they first planned.</p>
<p>Time Period: 4th Era, Post Alduin's defeat + Post Miraak's defeat</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinking with Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> This fic features my and my friend's characters. The dragonborn + other blades and characters get mentioned, but there's not that many NPCs featured in this one so far. Don't know how many chapters this will be because this is more a hobby of mine than anything! I usually like to draw something for each chapter. Really just wanted to goof around in the marsh!

  
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    The jungle was dense and nearly impossible to traverse. Roots, plants, rocks, streams, and only the Nine knew what else made any pathways obsolete. As if there would be any paths to begin with. The deeper into the Marsh they went, the less and less it appeared to be inhabited.

None of this seemed to deter Pilpen in any way. It took time, but with patience and some magic, he managed to slide past the increasingly larger trees without complaint. He couldn’t say the same for his companions, though.

    “Why did we have to take the horse?”

    “Because we found the horse.”

Ven-Ra tugged at the beast’s reins irritably. He refused to ride it unless Pilpen forced him to, and the current scenery made it impractical anyway. He hated horses. Idiot creatures.

“Yes. We found the horse. Standing next to the bodies of its former owners and the nest of flesh flies. What does it say about this smelly animal that not even the bugs would eat it?”

Pip lost his footing on a mossy root and slipped down its end, landing hard against another neighboring tree.  He attempted to turn around, but his feet seemed to be having trouble. It had gotten dark fast, and he wasn’t sure if night had fallen or if the forest was just so dense that the sun was blotted out entirely. He cast candlelight and waved back in Ven’s general direction, unbothered.

    “No wonder horses don’t like you. I wouldn’t like you either if you called me smelly.”

Pip couldn’t move because he was shin deep in a swamp puddle. Unsurprising. He dug his hands into the tree bark as best he could, and hoped a levitation spell would help get him un-stuck. Ven was unsympathetic. With some hissing at the horse, he caught up and sat on the aforementioned root, taking a break and observing the Imperial’s misfortune.

               “You’re lucky there isn’t a worm in there. Remember what the paatru told us?”

“We  _saw_  one, remember?” Pip replied excitedly. “The Argonian Account said you can ride them. We should try it.”

Ven sighed in distaste.

“It’s too dark here. What are we going to do when our magic runs out?”

“I don’t know. Hunker down and wait until we have enough again? Use a torch? Ah!  _Dammit_.”

Pilpen’s levitation had failed, and he slipped back down the tree’s side. He still wasn’t good enough with it to use it reliably.

Ven-Ra put a thoughtful hand on his chin and looked around. He couldn’t see more than four trees far in all directions. The only light was the candlelight, the only color was the muddy black puddle and the greenery on the barks of the trees. He looked up, and didn’t see branches. The trunks stretched into the canopy until the light couldn’t go any further. There wasn’t sound. Even insects had grown quiet. No rustling in the bushes. It felt more isolated than anywhere he had been to in Skyrim. Their only company was a stinking horse and darkness.

“I feel using a torch here would be a bad idea. We might attract attention with the light and smell. A place like this is good for an ambush.”

“Would anyone think there’s something  _to_  ambush out here? We haven’t seen another soul for an entire day.”

“That is what concerns me.”

”Any argonians living this far in would be able to navigate better than us-“

Ven watched as Pip landed in the puddle again with a splash, now up to his knees. “That is a given.”

The human grumbled and ignored his friend’s interruption. “So if someone was after us, they would have caught up by now.”

“Something can still come along. They could see us as trespassers.”

               A few minutes passed quietly, save for the occasional splash and muttered curse when Pilpen’s escape was unsuccessful yet again. Ven observed for a while, continuing to offer no assistance. Eventually he reached into his shirt and pulled something out of his chest pocket. A map.

It was said to have belonged to Uriel Septim’s champion. Why there would be a map to the Black Marsh and a coded message about the Blades Ven did not know- but he doubted his sources were lying to him, and a figure strange enough to supposedly travel to Aetherius and back wasn’t beyond this, he supposed. When he and Pilpen had taken it upon themselves to dig through the Blades archives and scour the land for any remaining faction history, he hadn’t expected some dusty, vague map. He turned it over, finding a jumble of sentences in faded ink that he couldn’t read. Next to it was a new cluster of jumbled sentences – Corvos’ translated notes- that he also could not read.

It had taken nearly a month to get the writing on the back decoded. Neither Esbern, Delphine, nor Hulan recognized the patterns- it was too old, and they had changed systems when the Thalmor reared their heads as a potential threat. Corvos was so fed up with the project that Ven had wondered if he would tear the map apart on several occasions. In the end, the script didn’t shed much light on the subject:

                _To the Blade’s head, whomever it may be, at whatever time,_

_I may have departed, but the Emperor entrusted me with something of yours. The Hist has told me to take it away, and so I have. When you have need of it, no doubt you will find it, and me._

_It will be safe eternally,_

    -         _E.S._

Suspicious, but was it important enough to journey into the marsh for? Pilpen thought so. Ven disagreed. So did several of the other blades. Hulan didn’t bother to come along (she had a strange aversion to the marsh anyway, for how much she talked it up), Delphine was unsure about it- only Esbern entertained the idea, curious about whatever the Hero of Daggerfall had taken. Pilpen had offered himself up to go immediately, along with exactly no other volunteers. Somehow, Ven found himself joining his excitable companion anyway.

    “I heard there’s a lot of discarded treasures in the marsh, Ven.” Pip had said. “Travelers lost to misfortune, entire abandoned settlements from the empire, temples so old who knows when they were made.” It managed to be enough to sway him. Ven-Ra was in it for the loot.

He turned the map over again and looked up to see Pip finally scramble his way to safety, standing on an upturned root on the other side of the puddle. It had taken fifteen minutes at least, and yet he had a look of utter triumph on his face. He grinned in Ven’s direction, showing off two sharpened canines.

The loot, Ven said to himself. He had come only for the loot. Gold, precious stones, artifacts to sell off- even bloodwine- Loot. Absolutely... nothing else.

    His thoughts were interrupted when the imperial made his way over and sat next to him. Ven muttered something about him slipping a second time, but didn’t seem too committed to the insult.

“Are we still on track?”

“Look around. Can you tell?”

“All right all right, you don’t have to get that kind of attitude.” Pip made a grab for the map, but Ven pulled it closer to himself with a blank expression. He sighed.

“I’m sure we’re getting closer, at least. We’ve been headed in the same direction this whole time.”

“Maybe you got turned around when you hit your face on that tree.” Still holding the map against his chest, Ven nodded his head in the direction of the puddle.

“Funny. Give me the map.”

“No.”

“You can’t even read it, Ven.”

“I can read  _maps_!” His feathers bristled in offense and he stood up. He extended an arm behind them. “Let’s go that way.”

    “I thought you didn’t know where we were.”

Ven didn’t answer. He just hopped off the root and started walking, apparently not caring that the candelight wouldn’t go any further and he’d be in the dark by himself if Pip didn’t follow.

Pilpen sighed in resignation. Ven would just keep at it and then they’d both be lost and alone. He made sure to grab the horses rein’s and check its legs before yelling for his companion to slow down.

               Ven, despite his complaints about the marsh, navigated it fairly well. Not too surprising considering argonians were built for the environment itself, but Pilpen couldn’t suppress his admiration for how easily the bard could weave his way past the roots and mud with such ease. He wormed his way past any obstacle without losing his footing a single time, and made almost no sound in the process. It was quite graceful – like Ven himself. At least, how Ven presented himself. He had slowed down enough for Pip and the horse to catch up, but didn’t spare a glance over his shoulder once, even when the imperial decided to start talking (again).

               “So, uh, how many outsiders do you think have been this far in? Why do you think the Hero of Daggerfall would come all the way here to hide something?”

               “Why are you asking me? For one thing, you’ve asked me this before, and I said I don’t care. Secondly, you already have your own ideas for the answers. Do you just have to make noise at every possible moment of the day?”

Pip, like most other races when they ventured into the marsh, was quite clumsy when he went through it. Ven could hear him slipping down more logs and branches, snapping twigs, and tripping over himself every other minute. That was before taking the unhappy horse into account; whinnying in protest and loudly clomping through any water and mud Pip managed to coax it to walk through. He associated the awful sounds horses made with imperials anyway. Fitting.

               “Just making conversation, I guess.”

Ven could almost  _hear_  the dopey grin Pilpen was probably flashing in his direction.

               “I don’t care about conversation with you.”

               “ _Ven_ , I’m hurt.”

               “I don’t care.”

Pip chuckled. Ven blinked his second eyelids and sighed.

    The two walked in silence (if one could ignore the noise from the human and horse) for about an hour. The scenery hadn’t changed besides a slow and consistent decrease of land. Eventually, the only reliable solid surfaces to stand on were the tree roots. Everything else was water. Undisturbed water, too, for it was completely clear and shiny on the surface until the party stepped foot in it. Cold blue candlelight shined off of it like a mirror until the horses hooves kicked up mud and debris from the bottom. It managed to make their surroundings appear darker than ever with nothing below them to reflect light.

Ven had kept dry up until then, dashing across the entangled roots and occasional log and stone to get from place to place. He would have used the branches as well, if there were any in sight. As for the others, it was Pilpen’s fault the horse was there, so if he had to wade through knee deep water because of it that was his own problem. Pip didn’t seem to care that much, all he did was snap the horse out of its fits and once remark about how at least ‘this water isn’t getting me stuck’.

To Ven’s dismay, the distance between trees began to grow farther and farther apart. The root system was either partially submerged or just as deep down as the bed of the marsh itself. He snapped when Pilpen smiled as he finally had to enter the water with the rest of them.

               “Haven’t you learned water walking yet?”

               “You know me casting magic is like wrestling a bear most of the time. You expect me to be a master at water walking? Or be able to cast it on a horse?”

               “That is why you should have looked at enchantments.”

               “Pfft. Sure, boss.” The last word said in such a sarcastic manner that Ven almost hissed in reply. He wasn’t Pilpen’s boss (and he wouldn’t hire someone like him in the first place). “You’re a better mage than me, why am I the one casting candlelight and getting scolded for not using waterwalking?”

               “Humph. I specialize in Illusion magic. You know that.”

               “Uh-huh.” The horse complained some more, this time butting its nose against the back of Pip’s head, making him stumble. “Well, magic expert, if you feel like gracing us with a light spell I’d suggest you do it sometime soon, because mine’s getting more pitiful by the minute.”

Ven did what he often did- not respond. Pip huffed and ran his hand through his hair. The trees were so far apart now that only the barest of their outlines could be seen. Pip felt the horse lose its footing and try to kick into the water as the ground started getting difficult to reach.

               “Or we can just wait until we have no light at all, and we’re in the middle of  _waist deep_  water with no sense of direction. That’s fine, too.”

               “Pilpen.”

               “Maybe one of those giant worms will come along while we’re disoriented and we can finally meet one in person. How’d you like an eternity stuck in worm stomach, Ven?” He leaned in towards the horse. “How about you? Sound like an adventure?”

               “ _Pilpen_.”

               “What?”

Ven had stopped moving forward. He pointed in front of them, in the distance. Pilpen had to squint to see it. A giant slab rested on a lip of stone above the water. Green and orange fire was burning brightly inside two braziers at its base. It stood by itself against pure blackness. Even the trees emptied out into a vast, empty pool several hundred feet before it. Ven backed up, slowly, not taking his eyes off of the stone, until he reached Pip.

               “That is where the map ends.” He said, pulling the withered paper from his shirt once more and holding it for both of them to see under the fading candelight.

If the Saxheel had a written language, neither of them had ever heard nor seen anything about it. The few words it had, once decoded, were in the common language. The map itself was artistically completely unlike traditional argonian artwork- more closely resembling something that would come from one of the human provinces. Hammerfell and Cyrodiil especially.  One argonian trait it did have was vagueness, however, and both Pilpen and Ven looked at each other in disbelief. It was not like their journey had been easy by any means, but could they have possibly reached the end after only a few months? Pilpen had expected it to take a year, if they found anything at all. Ven had as well, but once in the marsh- as annoying as it was- he rarely found himself feeling entirely directionless, even when he was unsure where he was going.

That feeling didn’t trouble him until now.

He did remember the call of the Hist during the Oblivion crisis, but that had been so strong that once they had been in the marsh for weeks without hindrance, Ven had completely forgotten about any possible Hist involvement. He wasn’t sure he liked that possibility.

               “I don’t trust this.”

               “Me neither, but what else are we going to do? Turn around? Wait for a morning that isn’t gonna happen?”

               “Hm.”

Pip took a deep breath. “Heh. Look at it this way, at least we’re both incredibly hard to kill, right? I’m going to go see.”

Ven was never much in favor of that mindset. Not that Pilpen was wrong, but whenever he said things along those lines, he usually ended up with at least one body part broken in a way that it shouldn’t be.

               Doing their best to stay close together, the two began to wade towards the slab. The silence seemed to have deepened with the water. Even the horse walked quietly along the swamp floor.

That’s how Pilpen could tell that the shifting noises coming from the pool wasn’t the horse. At first it was only once, like a piece of dead wood suddenly rising to the surface. Then it came again and again with increasing ferocity. The fire from the stone wasn’t close enough to give away what was causing the sound, but it was easy to tell that it was headed in their direction from both sides. Pip cast candlelight one more time, hoping a momentary brighter range of light would make things clear, then put his hand on Ven’s shoulder.

What they saw made both of them wish he hadn’t casted the spell.

               The water was getting murkier and becoming less and less reflective not from the party treading through it, but because hundreds of bones were rising to the surface, covered in mud and grime.

Pilpen saw mostly human skulls, and few full skeletons. Argonians and, rarely, mer and other beast races appeared. Along with a few he completely did not recognize. Some of the bodies were not all bone, quite a few of the Argonian remains seemed to be almost petrified. They didn’t move, they only floated, but they were appearing at an increasing rate, crashing and displacing each other. They started to pop up so forcefully that they rattled on top of other bones around them. They were showing up closer and closer to Ven-Ra and Pilpen.

               “Do you hear that?” Ven slammed his hand over Pilpen’s, almost causing the imperial to jump.

               “Hear what?”

Ven got a wild look in his eye. “You don’t hear that?”

               “You-You mean the splashing!?” Judging by his reaction, it was clear that was not at all what Ven meant.  Before he could say to run, the candelight spell went out.

Pilpen tried to cast it again, but he could feel the burn in his veins where the magic reserves drew empty. He still had trouble using one of the few things Porphyric Hemophilia was actually good for – nighteye. And it was true that he had wasted his magicka so thoroughly that even it did little more than to strain his eyes for a few seconds. The horse spooked immediately, and pulled itself out of Pilpen’s grasp, its frantic galloping through the water only adding to the noise.

The only light was from the two fires. Pip couldn’t feel or hear Ven next to him anymore. All he could hope was that the argonian would also follow the light as well. He couldn’t see the bones, either, but the splashing and cracking was getting so much louder.

As he got closer to the stone, it felt like something sentient was behind him. Something flew past his head, he could feel the breeze on his face. Was there something under the water, grabbing at his chest? He couldn’t tell what was real and what was a panicked fantasy. He scrambled to the lip of stone. Just as he dragged himself out of the muck, an image of white, grasping hands, flashed into his mind, nearly causing him to fall back in again.

He knew something was next to him. He forced himself to his feet and turned, feeling for his pocket knife.

It was Ven. Whom had escaped the water and drawn his sword as well.

They both exhaled, and realized that everything was quiet again, besides a distant, panicked whinny.

Looking out over the pool, it was completely still and clear. They exchanged glances again, and Pilpen was relieved to see that Ven looked just as startled as he was.

    “What was that? Wh- was that magic?”

    “I don’t…” Ven walked to the very edge of the lip, frowning and alarmed. “Was it  _illusion_?”

    “I guess you would know.”

Pilpen kept his hand on his knife, trying to steady himself. He turned his attention to the slab.

               Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be a large geode. The open side facing outward to the pool. Large chunks of amethyst were inside. They were carved in a design Pip couldn’t recognize. A figure, possibly an Argonian, kneeled and held a bowl that was spilling its contents into the bottom of the piece. At the very end, the liquid split in different directions, resembling the roots of a tree. The other side of the geode was completely smooth and featureless. 

There was nothing to the sides or behind it, either. To either side of the slab, the stone walkway stopped about fifty feet in both directions, giving way to complete drop-offs with only water inside, and a tunnel of trees. Behind it, there was a significantly larger tree, flanked by smaller ones. They were so tightly packed together that they appeared to have fused along the branches. Effectively, a wall.

Ven circled around the slab, as well as walked to the large tree and back, trying to pry at the space between the trunks with his hands and get a look past. Neither of them could find anything, even after an hour of going back and forth. Eventually the horse had reappeared, recovered from its fit, and helped itself to some of the weeds growing in front of the great tree.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed with there being an absence of sunlight, but at least half a day went by without any results. They had checked the stones for pressure plates. They tried to move the slab itself. They almost considered going down the paths back into the water again. Finally, when it was agreed that climbing the largest tree would also do no good, Ven had seen enough.

               “This is it?”

               “It can’t be. There’s nothing here.”

               “Yess, Pilpen. Exactly. There appears to be  _nothing here._ ”

               “We must be missing something. What would have that mess we just went through been if there wasn’t something here?”

               “I don’t know. Maybe it was some idiotic religious site that we trespassed on. Maybe this is the marsh way of saying ‘get off of my property’. Maybe the map is incomplete and we wandered in here with only half! I don’t know, but I do know this was a  _waste of our time_!” He tossed the map at Pilpen and tromped off to grab the horse by the reins.

               “I’m telling you Ven, we’re missing something here! This is the end!”

               Ven, despite himself, angrily clambered onto the beasts back, returning to the imperial whom was still comparing the paper and stone in frustration.

               “If the great Hero of Daggerfall thinks a giant, ugly decoration is a great weapon useful to the Blade’s survial- tell Hulan she can have the  _entirety_  of my share.” He hissed. “Let’s go.”

Pip hesitated. “I don’t think-” Ven interrupted him, leaning down and extending his neck until his nose was inches away from Pilpen’s face.

    “We are leaving. Get. On. The. Horse.”

               Pilpen sighed and allowed Ven to pull him up onto the horses back, too disheartened and confused to insist that he should be the one to steer, or to point out that Ven didn’t know how to control a horse on land, let alone a swimming one.

               “Don’t start with making the sad face, it won’t work this time.”

With some pressing, the horse made its way into the water.

    “I think you’re being too quick to quit on this one.”

               “I think you’re being an idiot. Can we stop now?”

               “Don’t call me an idiot, I’m not the one that gave up when he couldn’t figure something out right away.”

               “A day or more is not ‘right away’!”

The horse stopped.  “And what is wrong with you!” Ven exclaimed at the animal, snapping again when Pip grabbed his arm. “Don’t touch me. What is it?”

Both the horse and Pip had their attention on the crowd of silent argonians, all standing on top of the water directly in front of them.

They weren’t going back the way they came.


End file.
